


crust and crumb

by maesilju



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Corporate/ Coffeeshop AU, M/M, Pining, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-11
Updated: 2016-03-11
Packaged: 2018-05-25 22:17:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6212317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maesilju/pseuds/maesilju
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tokyo's a big city; the odds of running into a familiar face are minute. And yet, this far away from Miyagi, Kageyama winds up running into Iwaizumi again. Which would be fine, except for one glaring detail: he's never quite gotten over his old crush. </p><p> </p><p>Maybe it’s rude, running away like that when Iwaizumi’d clearly taken the time to bake for him, but this revelation changes things, and not necessarily for the better. It’s disconcertingly like he’s fourteen all over again, nursing a stupid unrequited crush, and Kageyama hates it. For fuck’s sake, he's twenty-seven now, and he passed the bar with flying colours on his second try, which is pretty damn impressive — most people don’t, not until their third or fourth attempt — so why should seeing Iwaizumi now, after all these years, make him feel so small?</p>
            </blockquote>





	crust and crumb

**Author's Note:**

> My fill for the hqexchange, written for [ kitkatsgalore,](http://kitkatsgalore.tumblr.com/) who requested iwakage coffeeshop! AU. Many thanks to everyone who has encouraged me/ provided advice regarding their legal knowledge for this fic! 
> 
> In this fic, the characters have been significantly aged up to match the setting. Japan's bar exam is notoriously difficult, and there are multiple requirements (e.g. going to graduate school) to fulfil before prospective candidates can qualify as attorneys. To allow for that, Kageyama is 27, and Iwaizumi is 29. And yes, that would mean that at 29, Oikawa is ridiculously young to have already made senior partner at his own firm (along with Matsukawa), but creative liberties and all that.

Kageyama rests his forehead against the screen of his monitor, willing himself not to drift off. The desktop’s glare paints the insides of his eyelids red, but the relative darkness is a reprieve from the harsh fluorescent strip lighting in the office. He yawns, fighting the pull of sleep. It’s been a long time — he can’t recall, more than twenty hours, maybe? — since he’s last slept. He’s lost count; after a certain point and one too many mugs of shitty instant coffee, acrid-smelling and overly cloying in his mouth - the hours blur together into one long, glacial crawl. The lights in Oikawa’s and Matsukawa’s offices are still on; no one’s getting any rest until they’re done with this particular clients’ case. Oikawa & Matsukawa Hōritsu Jimusho is a small law firm - practically tiny compared to the Big Five, and everyone’s running themselves ragged trying to deal with the workload. 

 

Besides him, Futakuchi fumbles for his mug and brings it to his mouth mechanically, not taking his eyes off his own laptop screen. Kageyama blinks, pushing himself back into an upright position. His head feels like it’s been stuffed with cotton wool, and the  _kanji_  wavers before his eyes, blurred and indistinguishable from each other.  _What was I doing again?_  He thinks, stupidly, and the moment drags before he remembers.  _Right. Got to finish the draft before the deal on Wednesday_ , and even then that’s a struggle; stringing thoughts together is like wading through mud. He reaches for one of the books stacked next to him -  a particularly thick volume on the Code of Company Law, and flips it open. Drags his gaze down the lines of text, registering nothing, and slumps forward again. In the background, Futakuchi makes a noise like a dying cat, and Kageyama groans in agreement. Cramming for the bar exam is nothing compared to this; work is  _torture_. 

 

A hand lands on Kageyama's shoulder, shaking him gently. 

 

“Go home,” a voice says, not unkindly, and he blinks owlishly until Yahaba’s face swims into focus. He looks as tired as Kageyama feels - there are dark rings around his eyes, and days-old stubble on his chin. 

 

“But - “ Kageyama says, or tries to say, he’s not very clear what’s going on.

 

Yahaba tsks with the barest edge of irritation, and then tosses his jacket at him, practically manhandling both him and Futakuchi out of the office, and down to the taxi stand, where there’s a line of cabs idling, exhaust steaming in the cold. Kageyama doesn’t know what time it is, but there’s a sharp nip in the air, and the streets are deserted. He leans against Futakuchi, who grumbles in sleepy protest before in turn slumping against Yahaba. 

 

“Oikawa says to go _home_ ,” Yahaba sighs, “and not to come back until you get several hours’ worth of sleep. The rest of the work can wait.” 

 

Kageyama very much wants to point out that, no, Oikawa is definitely  _not_  the boss of him and he can do whatever the hell he wants, and also that Oikawa is one to talk when it comes to working hideously long hours, but the interior of the taxi is warm, and he nods off even before Yahaba’s done speaking to the taxi driver. 

 

Before he knows it, he’s being shaken awake for the second time that night. 

 

“This is it,” the cab driver says. Kageyama squints out the window blearily and pays his fare, hardly caring if the change he receives in return is correct. 

 

There’s a tupperware box sitting by his front door. Kageyama picks it up and peers at it; brownies, it looks like.  _Weird, but ok._  He turns the key in the lock, and lets himself in, kicking off his shoes in the genkan. The rest of his apartment is a mess - he's only moved in a few days ago, and hasn't exactly had the time to unpack yet. Kageyama bashes his shins against several cardboard boxes, curses, and finally manages to locate the light switch. 

 

He leaves the tupperware on the kitchen counter - he’ll deal with it tomorrow, when he isn’t practically collapsing on his feet. Right now, all he wants to do is to fall onto his futon and just  _sleep_  for the next ten hours, showers and food be damned. Kageyama struggles out of his jacket and blazer, leaving them on the floor, before staggering into bed. He’s out cold before his head even hits the pillow. 

  

* * *

 

 

Kageyama almost chalks the tupperware box down to a fatigue-induced hallucination - after all, stranger things have happened - but the sight of it on the kitchen island when he steps out of the shower is a reminder that, no, that had happened. Now that he’s more awake, he notices the green-post it taped to the side of the container. Kageyama meanders over, toweling his hair dry. He peels the post-it away and holds it up to the light.  _hi_ , the note reads, in spiky, angular handwriting,  _the landlady said there was a new tenant that’d just moved in, and i thought you might like some brownies as a welcome_. _(if you’re not allergic to nuts, that is!) if you are, let me know - i live down the hall in no. 4 - and i’ll bake you something else that doesn’t contain any nuts! have a good week ahead, and see you around! -Iwaizumi._  

 

 _Iwaizumi, huh._ That's not exactly a common surname; the only Iwaizumi Kageyama knows is from way back, in junior high — his face colours at the recollection, and he drops the note as if scalded. The sting of embarrassment hasn’t exactly faded over the years, even though he’s no longer the same person as he was in junior high (reading law and sitting for the bar exam will do that to just about anyone). Kageyama looks at the post-it again, and shakes his head, scoffing at the thought. No, it’s too much of a coincidence to run into the same person eleven years later in Tokyo; the odds of that happening are staggeringly low. It’s probably someone else - Kageyama can’t exactly imagine his senior in an apron, anyway, and on second inspection, the note is far too cheery for the likes of Iwaizumi. 

 

Still. It wouldn’t hurt to try the brownies. Probably. There’s nothing but a sad stick of wilted celery in Kageyama’s fridge (transferred from his previous apartment to this one), and he’s tired of subsisting on instant ramen. 

 

He pries the lid off, and is pleasantly surprised by the aroma of caramel and chocolate. The brownies aren’t the plain chocolate kind - they’re oozing with caramel, and Kageyama’s mouth waters. He breaks off a chunk and pops it into his mouth. It’s good — the sweetness of the chocolate balanced out by the salted caramel, and he finds himself taking a bite, and another. By the time his stomach is pleasantly full, Kageyama’s worked his way through half the tupperware. He pats his stomach, stretching, and puts the lid back on, tucking it into his satchel for later. 

 

A quick glance at his phone tells him it’s half past ten on a Saturday morning. Kageyama's still got to go to work — that contract won’t write itself, after all — but he doesn’t have to be there that early, considering the amount of overtime he’s been clocking these past few weeks. He’s got time; enough to drop by apartment number 4 and thank whoever it is for the food.

 

He stops outside apartment number 4 on his way out, rehearsing what he’s going to say in his head. _Hi, I’m your new neighbour, Kageyama Tobio. Thanks for the brownies, they were delicious_ seems like a good start - - _and don’t smile so much_ , he reminds himself. Kageyama wipes his hand discreetly on his slacks — it’s clean, but it doesn’t hurt to be sure — and rings the doorbell, hears it go off distantly, a cheery electronic jingle. 

There’s no immediate reply, and Kageyama hovers in front of the door, uncertain if he should try again or just leave; perhaps his neighbour’s not in, or not awake enough to get the door. 

 

He’s on the verge of turning away, when the door opens abruptly, catching him by surprise. “H-Hi, I’m - “ Kageyama stutters, startled, and that’s as far as he gets before his brain screeches to a skidding halt, prepared speech forgotten entirely by the wayside. 

 

“Kageyama?” 

 

It’s Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi as in Iwaizumi Hajime, to be specific, because of course it _would_ be, and Kageyama’s stomach flips unpleasantly; he regrets over-indulging in the brownies now. It doesn’t help that Iwaizumi hasn’t changed all that much; he looks as good as ever; or maybe even better — now his shoulders are broader, his hair sleep-rumpled, and his voice rough from just waking up — Kageyama tears his gaze away from where Iwaizumi’s sweatpants are riding low on his hips, swallowing nervously.  _Fuck_. 

 

“So, um,” he rambles, shoving the note at Iwaizumi, “I just wanted to say thanks for the cakes they were really nice also I’m late so I’ll just be going now! Bye, Iwaizumi-san!” 

 

“Hang on,” Iwaizumi calls, but Kageyama pretends not to have heard as he all but sprints towards the stairs and out of the apartment building. 

 

Maybe it’s rude, running away like that when Iwaizumi’d clearly taken the time to bake for him, but this revelation  _changes_  things, and not necessarily for the better. It’s disconcertingly like he’s fourteen all over again, nursing a stupid unrequited crush, and Kageyama hates it. For fuck’s sake, he's twenty-seven now, and he passed the bar with flying colours on his second try, which is pretty damn impressive — most people don’t, not until their third or fourth attempt — so why should seeing Iwaizumi now, after all these years, make him feel so small? Kageyama knows  _exactly_ why; it has everything to do with how he’s never really moved on from his first crush, even now, and he ducks his head against the wind, quickens his steps, as though he can leave the memories behind just by striding away from them.

 

He’s still rattled by the time he gets to work, and it takes him longer than usual to settle down; Kageyama spends an hour flipping through the Company Law Act without making any actual progress on his draft. It’s a good thing no one is around to witness that, save Kuroo, the resident office cat, who blinks owlishly at Kageyama, before going back to snoozing in his usual spot on the windowsill. 

 

Futakuchi moseys in sometime past noon, munching on a pack of sour gummies; he’s followed shortly after by Kindaichi, who immediately goes to fuss over Kuroo. Kuroo puts up with it for several moments before he yowls in protest, snakes his way out of Kindaichi’s hold, and vanishes under the desks, no doubt to reappear later curled up in Oikawa’s ergonomic office chair. 

 

Kageyama’d left the tupperware on his desk earlier that morning, to use as a paperweight. Because Futakuchi has (a) no shame and (b) no sense of privacy, he leans over and plucks it off Kageyama’s table. “What’s this?” 

 

Kageyama scowls. “You don’t even _like_ cakes.” 

 

Futakuchi ignores him, cracking open the box and helping himself to a sizable chunk of cake. “Mmm, this is good,” he licks his chocolate-covered fingers, and fixes Kageyama with an assessing look. “I didn’t know you could cook. Bake, I mean.” 

 

Kindaichi leaves off trying to coax Kuroo out of his hiding spot with kissy noises, and perks up, as he always does whenever food is concerned. “What’s that?” 

 

“Kageyama brought brownies,” Futakuchi mumbles through a mouthful of brownies, “Here, have some,” and he hands over the entire box. 

 

“Wait -“ Kageyama flails — Kindaichi’s stomach is practically bottomless, and those brownies - _Iwaizumi’s brownies_ \- are going be nothing but crumbs by the time Kindaichi’s done with them — but it’s too late, and Kageyama watches, despondently, as the last of his food disappears.

 

“These are awesome!” 

 

“So I’ve heard,” Kageyama mutters, sourly. 

 

“Sorry?” Kindaichi turns to him quizzically, and Kageyama sighs. 

 

"I didn’t bake them,” he says, louder this time. “They were a gift.” Kageyama stresses the word _gift_ ; maybe it’ll make his colleagues feel bad for stealing his food. No such luck; neither of them so much as bat an eyelash. 

 

“Who from?” Futakuchi drawls, grinning unrepentantly at him. 

 

A good night’s rest, it seems, has rejuvenated Futakuchi — he’s back to his usual (read: annoying) self, and Kageyama fights the urge to roll his eyes; he’d much preferred Futakuchi in his zombified state. But it’d be rude to say so to his senior, so Kageyama swallows his retort, and replies, keeping his answer as short as possible. “My neighbour.” 

 

“Oh, yeah. You just moved, right? To Nerima?” 

 

Kageyama frowns; he’s definite he’s never told Futakuchi his new address, but he shrugs it off. Futakuchi is an incorrigible gossip, and he charms information out of their secretary, Watari, all the time. 

 

“Yeah,” Kageyama says, sitting back at his desk and fixing his gaze on his notes, hoping it’ll signal the end the conversation; he really doesn’t want to discuss the morning’s events; it’s bad enough having them replay in his head for the past hour or so. 

 

“So, is she cute?” Kindaichi’s tone is sly, and Kageyama can feel his ears heat at the insinuation. 

 

“He, actually.” 

 

“Is he cute, then?” Kindaichi presses on, unruffled, and Kageyama coughs to hide his embarrassment, shifting in his seat. 

 

“… No.” But Kageyama’s answer comes several beats too late, which is all it takes for Futakuchi to leap to his own conclusion.

 

“He _is_ ,” Futakuchi crows, sounding entirely too pleased about this recent development (Kageyama fails to see how it's any of his business), and he hunches his shoulders, ducking his head. It's no use, though, he can feel his face going warm.

 

Mercifully, he’s saved from further interrogation when Yahaba, the senior associate, steps into the office — everyone immediately assumes an industrious air, even Futakuchi, who swiftly pulls up his draft from yesterday, the smirk gone from his face. 

 

Once Yahaba’s busy, though, Futakuchi arches an eyebrow at Kageyama, as if to say, _pal, we’re not done here just yet._  

 

Kageyama groans (but not too loudly, because Yahaba is Just Over There, and impressions matter.) 

 

* * *

 

Saturdays are their unofficial get-wasted-after-work days, because Futakuchi insists that they need whatever liquid cheer they can get before Monday and its associated workload rolls around, and today is no different. They wind up at the Havana Café after work for drinks; it's _always_ the Havana Café when they hang out with Kindaichi, because Kunimi usually bartends on weekends, and the drinks are ridiculously cheap (for Roppongi, anyway). Futakuchi thinks it's amusing to watch Kindaichi try (and fail) to impress Kunimi. Kageyama has to admire Kindaichi's dedication; he's never seen Kunimi so much as crack a smile at Kindaichi while he's on shift. Kunimi mixes the smoothest cocktails, though, and he's always generous with the liquor.

 

Kindaichi, predictably, makes a beeline for the bar. They've been coming here for so long Kunimi doesn't even bother to ask them if it's the usual anymore; he just starts breaking out their poisons of choice.

 

"Wait," Kageyama blurts, feeling like the usual isn't going to cut it tonight. "I'll have a Long Island, please."

 

Kunimi arches an eyebrow at him; a White Russian is really more up Kageyama's alley, but he's already reaching for the tequila and vodka, which automatically makes him one of Kageyama's favourite people.

 

"A _ha_ ," Futakuchi coughs.

 

"What? It's been a tough week," Kageyama says, defensively.

 

Futakuchi smirks. "Sure," he says, dragging out the syllables. The corner of Kunimi's mouth twitches up, briefly, and Futakuchi winks at him. "My usual, if you please, Akira-chan."

 

"You're picking up the worst habits from Oikawa-san," Kageyama informs him, the first heady gulp of his Long Island making him bolder (and therefore more frank than usual), and Futakuchi rolls his eyes.

 

"Please," Futakuchi scoffs, swirling his drink. Meanwhile, Kindaichi's regaling Kunimi in between orders about the details of his latest case under Yahaba's supervision -- something about him getting to conduct a ship arrest -- which wasn't actually as dramatic as it seems, but Kindaichi makes it sound like the stuff of Hollywood movies for Kunimi's benefit, even though all Kindaichi _really_ did was board it and watch while Yahaba handled things.

 

"Ah, young love," Futakuchi sighs, which in turn makes Kageyama's mind irrationally swerve back to thoughts about Iwaizumi, and his grip tightens on his glass. Kageyama sips aggressively from his straw, draining the remaining half of his glass in one go. He coughs at the burn, "Another one, Kunimi."

 

One drink goes by after another, and in between griping over work and sneakily pelting Futakuchi with peanut shells, Kageyama gets progressively drunker.

 

Sometime after his sixth drink, Kageyama slumps and rests his chin against the table. The alcohol is starting to hit his system, and the world is softening into a haze.

 

Which is, of course, when Futakuchi goes in for the kill.

 

"So," Futakuchi prods his arm, and if Kageyama was sober, he'd read the warning signs and avoid this conversation at all costs, but as it is, he isn't, and Futakuchi's grin only grows wider when Kageyama grumbles vaguely in his direction.

 

"Want to tell me about your neighbour the baker?"

 

"He's not a baker," Kageyama protests. "He's Iwaizumi-san."

 

"Hang on," Kindaichi says, turning around, "You mean, Iwaizumi as in Iwaizumi-senpai?"

 

"The one and only," Kageyama groans, struggling to sit upright. "Kunimi - "

 

"Absolutely not," Kunimi says, from somewhere nearby, as if anticipating what Kageyama's going to say next, and Kageyama glares, even though he can't quite focus. "Are you like - telepathic or something? I just want 'nother drink -"

 

"Oh, come on, it's just one more." Futakuchi interjects, "Seven-drink Kageyama'll be hilarious - ouch!" He subsides back into the buzz of background noise.

 

"'S not fucking fair," Kageyama groans, "he just - shows up like that, and it's like - like -" he fumbles for the words, "I never - I guess I never forgot him. Not like you ever forget something like _that_ ," he hiccups.

 

"I didn't know Iwaizumi-senpai could bake," Kindaichi says, at the same time that Futakuchi asks, "Like what?"

 

"That's enough." Kunimi intervenes, "Kageyama's had enough to drink. Yuutarou, take him home, please. You too, Futakuchi-san."

 

"I told him," Kageyama slurs to no one in particular, "I liked him. In junior high. S'dumb, really, but he was - - he was always kind to me, when no one else was, an' -" he trails off, confused, as he lurches out of his chair.

 

Kageyama blinks. Kindaichi's got an arm around his shoulders, and he's half-hauling, half-carrying Kageyama out of the pub. Futakuchi's on his other side, Kageyama's arm slung over his neck.

 

"Where are we going," Kageyama complains, and he feels more than hears Kindaichi's sigh. "We're bringing you home. You're footing the taxi fare, senpai."

 

"Fine, fine." Futakuchi shrugs.

 

Kageyama's eyelids are starting to droop, and the last thing he really remembers before falling asleep is Futakuchi grumbling something about carrying someone. _Who, and where to?_ Kageyama wonders, and then he surrenders to sleep.

 

* * *

 

 

Kageyama dreams he's back in Kitagawa Daiichi again. His borrowed blazer itches, and it's a little too loose around the shoulders. He clutches his pen hard enough that the plastic creaks, and glares down at his notes. The amount of time they have left to plan is ticking down, and he doesn't understand why Kunimi and Kindaichi just don't get how to structure their reply speech. If he could, he'd do it himself, but he's their third speaker, which means he's stuck watching them fumble when the answer is so glaringly obvious, and it _chafes_.

 

"It's simple," Kageyama snarls, irritation making his tone sharp. "Just shut up and do as I tell you - "

 

Kunimi pushes his chair back, rising from his seat. His eyes are cold as he stares Kageyama down. "Don't bother," he says, and every word cuts like a knife. "I quit."

 

"Me, too. Figure this one out yourself, _king_." Kindaichi sneers, and he follows suit, leaving Kageyama gaping numbly at their retreating backs. Sakurai, their reserve, looks at Kageyama askance, and excuses himself, darting nervously back to where the coach is sitting, shaking his head.

 

It feels like a block of ice has materialised in his gut, weighing him down. Kageyama's hands tremble, and there's a buzzing in his ears. When he takes the floor to speak in Kunimi's stead, his voice falters, and he loses track of his own argument. He wraps it up hurriedly, almost forgetting to thank the adjudicators, and he flees after that, not caring to stay to hear the results of the judges' decisions.

 

That year, Kitagawa Daiichi loses the debate against Yukigaoka, and does not progress to the quarterfinals. It's a humiliating first for the school, and Kageyama's keenly reminded of the defeat every time he passes by the debate clubroom. He drops out of the club shortly after, and doesn't miss Sakurai's sigh of relief when he hands in his resignation.

 

The dream shifts abruptly, one memory blending into another, and Kageyama finds himself standing in the hallway outside 3-4, Iwaizumi's classroom. He's holding a bento box in his hands, one he recognises with slow, dawning horror. It's the agedashi tofu he spent hours agonising over how to make, gone slightly soggy with how long it's been sitting in his bag while he works up the nerve to confess. Kageyama's had _this_ particular dream before, enough times to recognise where it's going, but there's nothing that he can do to stop it.

 

Iwaizumi spots him when he steps out, his mouth curving in a grin. "Hey," he says, and Kageyama almost loses his nerve and bolts right then and there. He squares his shoulders and looks down at the bento box in his hands.

 

"This is for you," Kageyama says, handing it over, and he flushes; he hadn't meant to be _that_ direct.

 

"Oh. Uh." Iwaizumi glances at the box, slightly taken aback, and then back at Kageyama. His eyes, Kageyama thinks, are very green. "Thanks, I guess?"

 

"It's agedashi tofu," Kageyama presses on, looking down at his shoes instead of at Iwaizumi, because it's much easier to focus that way. "I made it because --"

 

Kageyama has relatively little experience with this kind of thing. The only reference he actually has are the dramas his mother watches, sometimes, long-drawn out affairs involving car crashes and amnesia and long-lost relatives, and he can't exactly imagine his crush on Iwaizumi including any of that.

 

Kageyama racks his brain, and comes up with nothing -- he's forgotten what he was going to say, so he settles for the truth. "I like you," he finishes, chancing a glance up at Iwaizumi and feeling his own face heat up as he does so.

 

Except Iwaizumi doesn't frown as he usually does. Instead, he asks, "Is he all right?" which is odd, because there's no one else nearby.

 

"Kageyama? I think so," Kindaichi says, and Kageyama squints; since when did _Kindaichi_ become part of this dream, too?

 

"He had a bit too much to drink," and now, apparently, it's Futakuchi's turn to chip in.

 

There's movement; someone's fumbling around in his jacket pocket, and a bit of cursing, followed by the rattle of keys, before he's being carried again.

 

"Go _away_ ," Kageyama grumbles; mostly he just wants to be left alone and there's too much noise for him to sleep. He's lowered onto something soft, and then someone drapes a blanket over him, and this time, when Kageyama slips under, his sleep is blessedly dreamless.

 

* * *

 

Kageyama wakes up with a pounding headache and a terrible case of dry mouth. He's in his futon, although he doesn't have any recollection of how he got there. Weak sunlight is streaming in through the window - so it's sometime in the morning, then -- he hasn't had time to put up the curtains, either - and he kicks off the blanket, hissing a little at the cold. He sits up, slowly, and notices the glass of water next to his futon, perched atop a box full of his clothes.

 

Kageyama takes a long gulp and sets it down; the movement sends the scrap of paper that'd been resting besides it fluttering to the floor, and he bends down to pick it up. He recognises Futakuchi's slanted scrawl, _you know, you're surprisingly heavy. anyway last night's heart to heart was fun, let's do it again~_ \- and under it, kindaichi's comparatively neater handwriting - _i think the glass is clean. i dug it out from a box. feel better!_

 

 _Oh god._ He remembers now - everything from spilling his guts about Iwaizumi over drinks, to Kindaichi and Futakuchi manhandling him into a taxi. Kageyama groans into his hands, and reaches for his phone. No messages, thank god, and nothing from work either.

 

 _remind me never to drink so much again_ , he texts Kunimi, and then for good measure, Futakuchi: _i hate you so much._

 

His phone pings a few minutes later with a reply.

 

 **futakuchi** : _getting u to talk about feelings under ordinary circumstances is like pulling teeth. also u would've just stewed about it n i know about these things. don't argue with me._

 

It's true, even if it's not pleasant to hear; Futakuchi has a way of reading people that occasionally sets Kageyama's teeth on edge, if only because Kageyama has never been good at lying.

 

 **kageyama** : _why do i talk to you again?_

 

 **futakuchi** : _that's what friends are for :) terrible personality aside, u have good taste. iwaizumi is actually really nice! nicer than u, actually._

 

_Wait. What?_

 

 **kageyama** : _please tell me we didn't run into him._

 

 **futakuchi:** _kindaichi introduced me. we met in the elevator. while u were passed out. shame, really. about that._

 

"Great," Kageyama mutters to himself. "Just fucking great." He's never going to be able to face Iwaizumi again, if ever; somehow, he's got a knack of making himself a fool in front of Iwaizumi, a trait that seemingly persists regardless of how old he is.

 

He stumbles out of his apartment later to go on a grocery run, and knocks over two cans of Pocari Sweat by his doorstep. Kageyama hates the traitorous way his heart skips a beat when he spots a familiar green post-it stuck to one of the cans. He squats down, and peers at it.

 

_you look like you could do with some of these. hope you had a fun night out! - iwaizumi_

 

He tucks the post-it carefully into his pocket, and reaches out for the can of Pocari. It's cool in his palm, and he presses it to his forehead for a moment, closing his eyes. The chill of it makes the pain abate somewhat. Kageyama cracks the tab, and takes a long swig; he finishes both cans on the walk to Maruetsu, and he's feeling better by the time he's stocked up on his groceries. If Kageyama happens to buy a large bar of baking chocolate, and leaves it by Iwaizumi's door as a thank you, well; it's only because the chocolate happens to be on sale, and he doesn't like owing people.

 

* * *

 

 

Later that week, Oikawa spontaneously treats them all to lunch. Which would be fine, but because the gods hate Kageyama, Iwaizumi is involved. Worse, he's at work, so he can't exactly escape.

 

It begins innocuously enough, with Oikawa sweeping into the office and declaring that since they've all been working so hard, they deserve a treat.

 

"I hope you remembered the gyoza with my ramen!" Matsukawa calls, poking his head out of his office.

 

"Even better," Oikawa smirks, "I brought food from that café you like, courtesy of Iwa-chan."

 

"You could at least help, y'know," Iwaizumi says, irritably, coming up behind Oikawa, his arms full of take-out boxes. "These aren't exactly light."

 

He's followed by a surly-looking man - no, _giant_ , hair bleached a startling shade of white. He towers over Iwaizumi, glowering at everyone else. The take-out boxes look like children's toys in his hands, and he handles them delicately, as if afraid of crushing them by accident.

 

"Aone, you can put those down here - " Iwaizumi directs him to the common area, and Kageyama tunes the rest of his words out as Kindaichi catches his eyes, and grins. Futakuchi is no help either - he's snickering even as he finishes replying a client's email, fingers flying over his keyboard. Kageyama slides down in his seat, wishing he could just vanish. Even Oikawa sending him on a coffee run right now would be welcome, but judging how Oikawa's gleefully bantering with Iwaizumi, that's not going to happen.

 

The rest of their colleagues are gathering by the common area; Kageyama can smell the aroma of freshly prepared food; savoury and mouth-watering, and his stomach lets out a loud growl. He'd skipped breakfast that morning, meaning to grab it on the way to work -- but the long line at the Starbucks nearby their office had completely derailed his plan, damn everyone else who'd happened to have the same idea.

 

"Shall we?" Kindaichi closes his laptop and leans back in his chair, stretching with a groan.

 

"You guys go on ahead," Kageyama says, hastily. "I have - uh, work. And I'm not hungry -" he's interrupted by his stomach growling again, the rumbling louder and more insistent this time.

 

"Oh, sorry, what was that I heard?" Futakuchi cocks his head, and Kageyama narrows his eyes at him. He's not at all keen on the lunch, and not only because Iwaizumi's there. Oikawa treating them all is a good idea in theory, but a horrible one in practice, at least for him. Kageyama's not that great with people, and apart from stilted small talk and work-related matters, he hasn't really had a real conversation with anyone other than Futakuchi and Kindaichi. Being a new hire means he's still on unsure footing with the senior partners, and while Matsukawa seems nice enough, being on the receiving end of one of Oikawa's assessing gazes isn't exactly how Kageyama wants to spend his lunch break.

 

"Bullshit," Futakuchi rolls his eyes. "You've been done with your draft for a while now, and Neko Atsume definitely doesn't count as work. If you've forgotten, I sit right next to you, so - "

 

"Like I could forget that," Kageyama mutters, and Futakuchi's smile broadens in a way that makes Kageyama take a step back. "What was that?"

 

"Nothing," Kageyama says, hastily, still backing away, "I'm sorry! And if we can just forget this ever happened -"

 

"Oh, come _on_ ," Kindaichi groans, and he reaches out to grab Kageyama's wrist, hauling him forward and away from the safety of his desk. "I'm hungry, you're hungry, let's just get some food, okay? Stop overthinking things. It's just lunch. You don't have to talk to anyone else if you don't want to."

 

Kindaichi steers Kageyama towards the food - and Kageyama gulps - company. Futakuchi gets them all napkins and disposable cutlery, and Kageyama settles down into a corner furthest from everyone else.

 

Their lunch turns out to be cottage pie, golden and lightly toasted on the outside, tender and flavourful on the inside, and beneath the crust, the mashed potatoes practically melt in his mouth. Kageyama's never been big on mashed potatoes - the instant kind he usually ended up with was powdery and gross, but this is different - light and creamy, and blending nicely with the roasted beef and minced carrots. It's delicious in a way that reminds him of his mother's cooking, and Kageyama digs in with relish.

 

"Thanks for the chocolate the other day, Kageyama."

 

He's so busy polishing the food off, he'd forgotten all about potential dangers (namely: conversation with anyone, _especially_ Iwaizumi). Kageyama has to remember how to swallow to avoid choking on his cottage pie and spewing it all over the place.

 

"Um." Kageyama coughs, looking down at his food. "Oh. That. You're welcome. I didn't get to thank you properly for the cakes, and I figured that you might need cooking chocolate."

 

"Oh yeah, Kindaichi," Futakuchi says, loudly. "I just remembered, I need your help with something, can you spare a minute?"

 

Kindaichi looks confused. "Uh, sure?"

 

Futakuchi makes to stand. "It's kind of urgent, actually."

 

Kageyama knows _exactly_ what Futakuchi is trying to do. He glowers, trying to communciate _see if I ever help you with your legal research again_ by the force of his glare alone. It doesn't work, judging by how Futakuchi tips him an insolent wink, which Kindaichi finally (and unfortunately, at least for Kageyama) cottons on to.

 

"Oh. _Oh_. Right! Uh, see you around, Iwaizumi-san!" Kindaichi clears out of there in record time, which leaves Kageyama with Iwaizumi. Kageyama stabs at his salad with his fork, hoping Iwaizumi will take the hint and leave, but he doesn't.

 

"Congratulations," Iwaizumi says, and he's smiling at Kageyama from across the table, warm and sounding so _proud_.

 

Kageyama blinks. "What?"

 

"You made it, and it only took you twelve years."

 

It takes a moment for Iwaizumi's words to register. "You... you remember that?" It seemed so long ago. Kageyama ducks his head, embarassed; the memory's resurfaced at the back of his head.

 

_I'm Kageyama Tobio, he'd said, at the club's first meeting, by way of introduction, and I'm going to be a lawyer._

 

"'Course I would." Iwaizumi grins. "There was only one other person I know who was bent on becoming a lawyer, and that's Oikawa. You're a rare breed, you attorneys. Oikawa updated me on the way over, said you'd joined a few months ago."

 

"Yeah, I did." The details are boring, though. Kageyama scrambles for another topic to keep the conversation going, so it wouldn't lapse into awkward silence.

 

"I thought you and Oikawa-san would meet more often - "

 

"Meet more often?" Iwaizumi snorts. "Oikawa lives and breathes lawsuits and contracts; getting him to agree to lunch is like pulling teeth. I'm glad Matsukawa's around to drag him out of the office, though."

 

"Yeah," Kageyama nods, shoulders hunched over his food. He glances around furtively, but Futakuchi and Kindaichi have made themselves scarce, and they don't look as if they'll be back soon, the traitors.

 

"So, Kindaichi hasn't changed all that much," Iwaizumi gestures at his hair, steepling his hands as if sketching out a cone atop his head, and Kageyama grins, biting back a laugh.

 

"No, he hasn't." They'd grown apart in junior high, and then they'd gone to completely different high schools. Law school was where Kindaichi's and Kageyama's paths crossed again, and by then enough years had passed to allow them to bury the hatchet amicably, though time hasn't completely dulled the ache. "If you've got the time, you should drop by the Havana Café when you can. Kunimi bartends on weekends, and he'll be pleased to see you. Speaking of which, I didn't know you could cook. I mean. Professionally."

 

The last sentence sounded stupid, even in his own head, and Kageyama kicks himself mentally. There's something about being in the same room with Iwaizumi that kills his ability to speak properly, he thinks, cringing a little inside.

 

"F&B? I kind of stumbled into it, actually. My dad taught me how to cook, but I didn't think about food as a career until Makki - my roommate - talked me into helping him cater for an event. I was nervous as hell, but it turned out all right and the health authorities didn't descend on us, so." Iwaizumi shrugs, "I took some classes, and - " he's interrupted by his phone going off. "Sorry, it's work, I gotta take this."

 

"Again?" Iwaizumi groans in response to whoever it is on the other end of the line, "Okay, I got it. Tell Kyoutani not to touch _anything_. I'm leaving right now. Yeah. See you there."

 

He grimaces at Kageyama, sounding apologetic. "Turns out one of the coffee machines is acting up again, and there was a bit of - an incident. I've got to go, but it was nice catching up with you. Here," and Iwaizumi fumbles with his wallet, pulling a business card out and handing it to Kageyama.

 

Kageyama looks down at the business card. It's plain card stock, nothing fancy, with Crust & Crumb printed on it in green, swirling ink, with the business hours and address stamped beneath in smaller font.

 

"You should come by sometime. I mean, if you need coffee, or food, or just a place to work on weekends," Iwaizumi offers. "We're just a few blocks away, and the new espresso machine's coming in Friday, so no more accidents with it, I promise. Perfectly safe. Well, mostly." He grins at his own joke, and Kageyama can't help grinning back.

 

"Sure," Kageyama finds himself saying. Clearly, his own sense of emotional self-preservation is shot to hell and back, and he's going to regret this later.

 

"Great," Iwaizumi claps him on the shoulder, and stands. "See you around, then!"

 

It's probably just wishful thinking, but the warmth of Iwaizumi's hand lingers long after he's gone, and Kageyama studies the card, turning it over in his fingers, and hates himself for falling so hard. It's been years, but his heart still hasn't gotten the memo, it seems. He thinks about Iwaizumi's smile - broad and genuine, the kind that made his eyes crinkle at the corners, and the ache surges up in Kageyama's chest again, fierce in its loneliness and longing. Kageyama takes a deep breath, and tucks the card carefully away into his pocket, so he doesn't crush it by accident. He can be selfish, just this once. Even if Iwaizumi has never reciprocated his feelings, Kageyama will take what he can get.

 

"So?" Futakuchi saunters up to him later, smirking, and Kageyama slants a glare up at him from the injunction order he's drafting.

 

"So what?"

 

"You're _glowing_ ," Futakuchi declares, draping himself over the back of Kageyama's chair like an overgrown cat, "Kindaichi, mark this down in your calendar - six months into the job, and Kageyama Tobio _finally_ cracks a smile. I was starting to think that you just had one setting: glower."

 

Kageyama scowls on reflex. "I am not," he mutters, deleting the entire sentence off his word document. It's no good; he'll have to rewrite it later.

 

"Sure you are," Futakuchi grins at him, and to add insult to injury, he reaches out to ruffle Kageyama's hair before standing up and going over his own desk. "I take it you two had a nice chat?"

 

"None of your business," Kageyama mumbles, glad that the business card is safe in his pocket, hidden from Futakuchi's prying stare.

 

"Leave him alone, _senpai_ ," Kindaichi interjects, around a mouthful of apple crumble, spewing crumbs over his keyboard.

 

Futakuchi throws his hands up in the air, "Why do I even bother with you two, honestly?"

 

* * *

 

 

Work takes a turn for the worse on Thursday. Kageyama's been counting down the days to Friday, just so he can go home, order some _karaage_ as take out, and pass out without have to worry about crawling out of bed to head to the office the next day. It's not the most glamourous of weekend plans, but it's something to look forward to, at least.

 

That plan gets shot down the moment Oikawa storms into the office, the look in his eyes bordering on manic. "Where's Futakuchi?"

 

"Futakuchi's called in sick," Kageyama hears Yachi say, and he hunches down in his seat in a bid to make himself more inconspicuous. He's learned that Oikawa's best avoided when he gets like this - which, considering their profession, is pretty much _all the time_.

 

"Damn," Oikawa snaps, and he glances around. Kageyama ducks his head, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the article he's reading, trying to look as busy as possible. Oikawa probably won't call on him to take over for Futakuchi - but it's better to be safe than sorry.

"You'll do. Come on, we don't have all day. Chop-chop, Tobio-chan!"

 

 _What?_ "Why me," Kageyama mumbles. Kindaichi gives him an encouraging thumbs-up, which doesn't really help in any way. Kageyama stands, grabbing his jacket from where it's slung over the back of his chair, and hurries to keep up with Oikawa, who's already on his way out of the office. There's a taxi waiting by the kerb, the meter running, and Kageyama winces at the amount Oikawa's already racked up on the way to the office.

 

"Where are we going?"

 

"Court." Oikawa hands him the case file. "Futakuchi's supposed to be co-counsel, but you'll do. Run over it while you can."

 

It's an anticipatory breach of contract case, with Oikawa-Matsukawa is representing the defendant - a small enterprise. The plaintiff - Proclus Global- has pulled out the big guns - one of Tokyo's Big Five has taken up the case in their stead. The odds aren't exactly on their side, but then again Oikawa has never been the sort to back away from challenges, even if they've got the short end of the stick.

 

"I hear Refreshing-kun's representing Proclus," Oikawa says, drumming his fingers restlessly against his thigh. Kageyama can almost feel the nervous energy and anticipation radiating from him. Oikawa seems to subsist entirely on an unholy mixture of caffeine, milk bread and catnaps; Kageyama bets he's already had one too many shots of espresso in his coffee today.

 

The name is unfamiliar. "Refreshing... kun?"

 

"I know you're slow, but do try to keep up, Tobio-chan! The prosecution is Sugawara Koushi, from Nishimura-Asahi."

 

 _Ah._ That explains Oikawa's jumpiness. Sugawara-san is a formidable opponent to face down in court, if only because he can read people just as well as Oikawa can, and he almost always has an ace up his sleeve.

 

As expected, Sugawara doesn't give them any quarter in the courtroom. Oikawa gives as good as he gets, though and they manage to wrangle a few concessions from Proclus, with the rest of the trial set for a later date.

 

"Refreshing-kun always goes all-out." Oikawa sighs, once they're out of the courtroom. "But it went as well as expected." He unwraps a milk candy and pops it into his mouth, before biting into it with an audible _crunch_ , as if to punctuate his statement.

 

"It's not over yet, though." Kageyama grunts, shifting the bag of paperwork from one hand to the other. Oikawa's saddled him with the files, and they're _heavy_.

 

"No, it isn't." Oikawa's phone buzzes, and he nods to Kageyama. "Go on, I'll meet you in the lobby."

 

At this hour, the lobby's fairly busy, a steady stream of people coming and going. Kageyama leans against a pillar and waits, setting the bag of files by his feet. He hopes Oikawa won't take long; he still has more work waiting for him back at the office.

 

"Well, well, If it isn't Kageyama Tobio."

 

He looks up, startled. It's someone he knows, if only distantly.

 

"Washiro-sensei," Kageyama bows, if only to be polite. The legal circle is fairly small - everyone knows everyone, and gossip gets around very quickly. It pays to be civil, especially to the senior partner of a Big Five firm.

 

"It's a pity you didn't accept our offer. You might've been in a different position today." Washiro surveys him as though Kageyama's an offending piece of gum stuck to the sole of his shoe.

 

Kageyama narrows his eyes. "I'm sorry?" He's not, actually; he's already mentally running through potential ways to escape this conversation. After all, it's not as if he can just turn around and walk away, although that's looking more and more attractive with each passing second.

 

"Oikawa Tooru, really? He's reckless. Arrogant. I expected better judgement from you. You've seen the kinds of cases he takes on, trying to go toe-to-toe agasint Nishimura-Asahi when he doesn't stand a chance. You're wasted in his firm, Kageyama-kun. So much potential, but it's hard to compete when you're overshadowed by the likes of him. You won't get far."

 

Kageyama grits his teeth. "I don't see how that's any of your business - "

 

“Trying to poach my junior associate, sensei?” Oikawa drawls, seemingly materialising out of nowhere. He must've come up quietly during Washiro's vitriol without either of them noticing; Kageyama doesn't jump, but it's a close thing.

 

Oikawa's smile doesn't reach his eyes, which are cold as he stares down Washiro.

 

"No, we were simply having a chat." Tanji's words are polite, but his mouth twists, as if he's bitten into a particularly sour lemon.

 

"I'm sure Kageyama's enjoyed it, but we have to be going. Good day," Oikawa says, and he bows, the motion curt, before turning on his heel. "Come along, Tobio-chan."

 

Ordinarily, Kageyama would bristle - he’s not a _dog_ \- but this time, he’s glad for the intervention. Washiro's hostility is unnerving, and the faster they get out of here, the happier Kageyama will be.

 

“The old man’s still pissed I left to set up my own firm,” Oikawa mutters, “don’t let him get under your skin. I’ll be damned if Washiro tries to pick on you, as well. I wouldn't have hired you if I didn't think you could do the job. You're still a bit rough around the edges, but you did well today, and that's something, considering it was Refreshing-kun we were up against."

  
  
Kageyama stares, fighting the sudden urge to pinch himself to make sure he's not dreaming. It's by far the nicest thing Oikawa has ever said to him, and that's counting all the times Oikawa's lorded it over him, or once - memorably - made him bow and took a photo to commemorate the event.

 

"Uh. Thanks?"

 

Oikawa's not done yet, though. "Which set me to thinking," he continues, pointing at Kageyama. "From now on, you're going to be working with me. Not just as co-counsel on this case, but for everything else. You've still got a long way to go, and I can't have you bungling up just so he can laugh and drag _my_ firm's name through the dirt."

 

"Shouldn't you discuss this sort of thing with Matsukawa-san first?" Kageyama manages, when he can get a word in edgeways past his own disbelief.

 

"I'll sort it out with Mattsun." Oikawa makes a dismissive flapping gesture. "But don't think I'll go easy on you, Tobio-chan." He smiles, a glint in his eyes that Kageyama knows all too well - it's the look Oikawa gets when he's about to crush an opponent, and he's suddenly very glad that for the first time in a long while, it's not aimed at him, because they're both on the same side.

 

"Thank you, Oikawa-san!"

 

"Don't thank me yet - I haven't even put you through the wringer."

 

"Oh. Right."

 

* * *

 

Kageyama squints at his notes, groping for his coffee mug with his free hand. He brings it to his mouth, tipping it back, and grimaces when he realises that it's empty. He groans, setting it aside, and goes back to wrangling his draft into shape. Working under Oikawa's supervision is _exactly_ as stressful as he'd imagined it would be, if only because Oikawa seemingly doesn't need sleep. At all.

 

Someone taps his shoulder a while later, and he tugs his earbuds out. It's Iwaizumi, broom in hand.

 

"Hey," Iwaizumi says, "just thought I'd let you know we're closing soon."

 

"It's 8pm already?" Kageyama rubs at his eyes. He feels oddly disconnected, like the world's out of focus somehow. His thoughts are a jumbled mess, tangled up in each other, and sorting them out is too much effort. Iwaizumi's right, though - he's the only other customer left in the café. Kageyama wonders when everyone left, and then gives up - his head hurts too much for that.

 

"Yes. You're as bad as Oikawa, you know," Iwaizumi grins. "Earlier, Kyoutani dropped several plates and you didn't even notice. Tough case? "

 

Kageyama bends down to unplug his laptop charger from the power point, and his back creaks. "Ow. Something like that, yeah," he resurfaces from under the table, charging cord clasped firmly in his hand. "Sorry, I wasn't keeping track of time."

 

"Nah, don't worry about it." Iwaizumi reaches for the empty coffee cup and fiddles with it, "so, I was wondering if you had any plans for dinner?"

 

"Not really, no." Kageyama yawns, saving his progress and powering his laptop down. He jams everything haphazardly back into his satchel and buckles it shut. "I think I might get some food from the _conbini_ and call it an early night. Why?"

 

"Ah." Iwaizumi's shoulders slump a little. "There's a curry restaurant around here, and I was thinking of giving it a try, but another time, maybe?"

 

If Kageyama goes home now, it'll be the usual. The apartment will be empty and dark, with no one to answer his ' _tadaima_ ', and it'll be yet another night of _onigiri_ and _oden_ by himself, bent over his work until he staggers into the shower, and then his futon. It's lonely, perhaps, but it's safe. _Familiar_. If he goes for dinner with Iwaizumi, on the other hand, it'll be a departure from his routine, and a step out into the unknown. Kageyama doesn't know if he's awake enough to handle it, and yet Iwaizumi looks so damn _hopeful_ , Kageyama can't bring himself to say no.

 

"Curry would be nice," he relents, slinging his bag over his shoulder. "I haven't had that in a while."

 

It's worth it, seeing the smile return to Iwaizumi's face. "Okay! Just give me five minutes, I'll lock up, and then we can go."

 

 _help_ , Kageyama texts Kunimi, while Iwaizumi's puttering around the café putting things back in order before he closes for the day, _i'm going for dinner with iwaizumi_.

 

 _that sounds like the opposite of a problem_ , Kunimi's reply comes several moments later - it must not be a busy night at the bar, or else he wouldn't be on his phone.

 

 _you don't understand!_ Kunimi _doesn't_ \- he's never had a crush on Iwaizumi _and_ been rejected, for one.

 

_it's the weekend. relax. what's the worst that could happen? also, kindaichi wants updates._

 

Kageyama groans. _thanks for nothing_ , he sends, and gets a thoroughly unsympathetic _you're welcome_ in return. It's confirmed - he has the worst friends ever.

 

Dinner turns out to be a whole lot better than Kageyama's been dreading. The restuarant serves up good curry; Kageyama has his with pork, topped with an egg; and Iwaizumi goes for a hamburger cheese steak with potato wedges on the side, liberally doused with Worcester sauce.

 

To Kageyama's relief, they don't talk about junior high, and the conversation flows naturally, like they've known each other for years, instead of having drifted apart. Iwaizumi tells him about the new recipes he's been experimenting with - blackberry lemon tiramisu (the problem is striking a balance between the acid tartness of the lemon and the subtler, sweeter taste of the blackberries) and blackforest cake (Iwaizumi can't quite get the texture quite right, and the _kirsch_ liqueur rather overpowers the chocolate); along with Kyoutani's complaints about people's orders (verbatim: "we're not fucking Starbucks, and we don't have any of that java chip crap, so no").

 

In return, Kageyama tells him about work - not so much about the cases, because of client confidentiality - but the shenanigans that inevitably arise when the senior lawyers are away. Kuroo attempting to eat the pendulums on the Newton's cradle perched on Oikawa's desk and knocking the entire thing to the floor; Kindaichi putting M&Ms in between the pages of the firm's copy of the Company Law Code as motivation for him to finish his research (that hadn't worked out so well, and to this day there are still chocolate stains on some of the pages), and Mattsun unceremoniously sweeping Oikawa out of the office in a fireman's carry when he found out Oikawa was practically living in his office.

 

"Sounds like you have fun," Iwaizumi chuckles, shaking his head.

 

"We do, yeah." It hasn't quite been what he expected when he'd accepted the offer, but in a lot of ways, it's been better than he first imagined. "I didn't expect so much camaraderie, and Oikawa-san... has been a lot nicer than I thought he would be." He tells Iwaizumi about the run-in at the courthouse lobby with Washijo, and Oikawa stepping in.

 

"I was wondering," Kageyama ventures, "if there was any way I could thank him for that." Oikawa's not the easiest person to read, at least not for Kageyama, but he's starting to see beyond Oikawa's prickliness, to the kind of person Oikawa really is under that facade (steady, determined and _reliable_ , come hell or high water).

 

"That's easy," Iwaizumi chuckles. "Milk bread, lots of it, or pastries, and if you buy him Hanamaki's coffee on a bad day he'll be that much more agreeable to deal with. Oikawa's a good - look, let me put it this way - he might have a terrible personality, but he's got your back at the end of the day."

 

The conversation veers to other things, and by the time they're done with their food, Kageyama's yawning again. Iwaizumi walks him home, their shoulders or hands brushing now and then, and Kageyama fights the blush that threatens to well up every time they accidentally make contact. It feels warmer, somehow, just with Iwaizumi next to him, and he's red by the time they get to their floor. Thankfully, Iwaizumi doesn't seem to notice.

 

"That was nice." Iwaizumi pauses by his door, keys jingling as he tugs them out from his pocket.

 

"We should - maybe - do that again another time?" Kageyama flushes hot as soon as the words leave his mouth. To his own ears, he sounds clumsy and too eager - desperate, almost. _Could he be any more obvious?_

"Sure," Iwaizumi says, smiling, "I'd like that."

 

Something warm blooms in Kageyama's chest in response, unfurling in a giddy blaze, and he smiles back, relief tingling warm down his spine. "All right. Whenever you're free," he blurts, stoked by a sudden surge of confidence he didn't know he had.

 

"Next weekend would be good," Iwaizumi hums, and there's a _click_ as he turns his key in the lock. He pushes his door open, but hesitates before stepping inside, instead turning back to look at Kageyama. "Goodnight," Iwaizumi says, softer than before.

 

"Goodnight," Kageyama echoes, fumbling with his own keys, anxious to get away before he can embarass himself by blurting out something else along the lines of _I meant it when I said I liked you, and I still do_.

 

He's still grinning to himself by the time he settles down into his futon, tugging the blanket up and over his head to muffle his giddy yell. Some part of him is aware that he's behaving like a teenager with a stupid crush all over again, but for the most part, Kageyama is content.

 

* * *

 

Iwaizumi's right. Oikawa, Kageyama learns, is more bark than actual bite; additionally, he’s more likely to humour any requests if plied with good coffee and baked goods, something that Kageyama busies himself doing, much to great effect. 

 

Oikawa’s eyes narrow over his latest mug of coffee. “This isn’t bribery, is it,” he asks, even as he reaches out for another honey madeleine. “It’s just, you’ve never taken an interest in going for coffee runs before.” 

 

Kageyama shrugs. “I figured some air would be nice,” he says, and it’s not entirely a lie; he _does_ get fresh air, and it helps that Iwaizumi is usually the one manning the cashier. 

 

“Hm," there’s a speculative gleam in Oikawa's eyes, but then Kuroo jumps up onto his desk and onto over his keyboard, yawning. He flicks his tail, and knocks a pen off the desk.

 

"No," Oikawa snaps, waving his hands ineffectually. "No, go _away_! "

 

Kuroo ignores him, turning in a circle and lying down instead. He blinks, once; twice, deliberately slow, and then closes his eyes and goes to sleep.

 

"Oh, come _on_ ," Oikawa groans. He raises his voice. "Issei, I swear, I'm tossing your mangy stray out onto the streets if you don't come and collect him right _now_ -"

 

Kageyama seizes the opportunity to slip out, unnoticed. Oikawa talks up a big game, but his complaints are mostly hot air - Kageyama's seen Oikawa sneaking Kuroo bits of food and scratching him behind the ears when he thinks no one is looking. He fusses over Kuroo more than Matsukawa does, and that's saying something, considering Matsukawa was the one who rescued the cat.

 

Kageyama breaths a sigh of relief when he's settled back in his seat.

 

"I saved a few for you," Futakuchi nudges him, handing the box of macarons over. It's one of the café's trial recipes, and so far everyone at the office has been more than happy to be guinea pigs, especially when they get food for free. It's a slow day at the office since Yahaba and Kindaichi are at court, which means that there are more leftovers than usual.

 

"Thanks, I'll eat them later."

 

Futakuchi doesn't turn back to his work immediately; there's an amused tilt to his mouth as he watches Kageyama, like Futakuchi's figured out something Kageyama hasn't.

 

"What?" Kageyama raises an eyebrow at him, anticipating snark, but Futakuchi just shrugs.

 

"You look happier, y'know. It's nice. Kindaichi and I were thinking about staging an intervention, but it looks like we won't have to, after all."

 

 _Do I?_ Kageyama flushes, and looks away, scoffing at the notion. _No, that's ridiculous._

 

"I know I'd feel a lot happier if you turned in that draft," he replies, "so Oikawa'll stop breathing down our necks."

 

Futakuchi snickers, but he spins his chair back around to face his laptop. Kageyama squints at himself in the reflection of his laptop monitor; he doesn't look all _that_ different.

 

Contrary to Futakuchi's assumptions, he and Iwaizumi aren't an item, or anything like _that_ , not at all. They have dinner, occasionally, when Kageyama's packed work schedule and running the café allows. More often than not, Kageyama finds a tupperware of food by his doorstep, along with a familiar green post-it stuck to the lid. Sometimes the food's savoury - (he's had croquettes, _umeboshi_ and _katsudon_ ) and at other times, it's dessert ( _sakuramochi_ , _monaka_ or _pastéis de nata_ ), depending on what Iwaizumi's been working on that day. It's odd that Iwaizumi almost always seems to have prepared too much food, but Kageyama's not complaining. His underutilised fridge is, for once, never short of something to eat when he's feeling peckish at three in the morning. Kageyama returns the favour as best he can, mostly with baking supplies he picks up as part of his grocery runs. They've fallen into an easy pattern of camaraderie, as neighbours and friends, and as tempting as it is to dream that they could be something more -- that's all they'll ever be.

 

* * *

 

 

It's hard, remembering that.

 

Kageyama dreams, sometimes, about Iwaizumi. It's not as weird as it sounds - okay, it _is_ weird, kinda, but it's not as if he can help it. His dreams are mundane; they mostly revolve around food and Iwaizumi. Sometimes they're having a picnic, and other times, Iwaizumi's teaching him how to bake (never mind that Kageyama's never baked anything more complicated than sugar cookies) and in his dreams, Iwaizumi's smiling, warm and fond and just for Kageyama. It probably says a lot about his subconscious that Kageyama's pining so much over a crush he should've long since grown out of, but Kageyama's choosing not to dwell on that - he's got other problems to deal with.

 

 _You're not allowed to feel this way_ , he thinks, watching as Iwaizumi ruffles Kyoutani's hair, laughing at something Kyoutani's said, but Kageyaam has never been fully in charge of his feelings, and he can't help the affection he feels as Iwaizumi looks over and their gazes meet.

 

Kageyama wants more than the friendship Iwaizumi's offered him, without asking for anything in return, and he hates himself for it. He ducks his head, forcing his gaze back to the form he's filling in, reading the words over and over again even he isn't actually processing anything at the moment.

 

He leaves the café earlier than usual, and doesn't go back for the next few weeks.

 

Kageyama knows something _else_ about love - like any flame, deprive it of oxygen, and it flickers out. This too, will pass, if he avoids it for long enough.

 

* * *

  

Except that this is also _Kageyama's_ life, and things don't go as smoothly where he's concerned, especially with the friends that he has.

 

At work, Kindaichi corners him in the pantry, fixing him with a look. "Oikawa's been insufferable ever since you stopped making sure he's properly fed and caffeinated."

 

It's true; all Oikawa has to drink now is shitty instant coffee, which makes him crankier than usual, but he doesn't see how that's Kindaichi's problem, when it's _Kageyama_ who has to deal with Oikawa. Besides, since when did Kageyama become the resident Oikawa-wrangler when Matsukawa and Yahaba aren't around?

 

"And?" Kageyama wishes the electric kettle would hurry up and boil, so he can get his coffee and escape, but no such luck.

 

"Well..." Kindaichi flounders for a moment in the face of Kageyama's glare, but then presses on, "so you should! Go on a coffee run, maybe?"

 

"I'm busy."

 

"Funnily enough you didn't seem to be _that_  busy over the last few weeks." Kindaichi frowns, "So something happened with you and Iwaizumi?"

 

"No," Kageyama grits out. "Nothing happened, and will you just _stop_ asking questions? I don't get why you even care so much, when it's got _nothing_ to do with you."

 

The kettle beeps as the water comes to a boil. Kageyama pours it into his mug and flees. It's only when he's safely back at his desk that he realises that he'd forgotten to add the instant coffee mix, so all he's grasping is a mug of hot water and not the coffee he's been craving.

 

" _Damnit_."

 

* * *

 

 Kageyama shakes off Kindaichi's and Futakuchi's combined efforts at collaring him after work, but doesn't go straight home. He'll likely find another tupperware waiting for him by his door if he does - so he heads to the bar instead; he could do with a stiff drink (or several).

 

Kunimi arches an eyebrow at him when he turns up alone, but he serves up Kageyama's glass of sazerac anyway.

 

The first sip is... surprisingly underwhelming, lacking the kick that Kageyama'd been bracing himself for.

 

Kageyama squints accusingly at Kunimi. "You're holding back on the liquor, aren't you?"

 

"Me? Never."

 

It's a Monday night, so the bar is fairly quiet and the conversation muted. Kunimi toys with the cocktail shaker before setting it aside.

 

"I - I mean, Kindaichi and I - we're, uh, going out. Kindaichi was going to tell you, but he says you 'sort of blew up at him at work'."

 

It figures that Kunimi would've heard about it; Kindaichi tells him _everything_. "Congratulations," Kageyama says, tone flat. "Can I have a proper drink now?"

 

Kunimi sighs, as if dealing with a petulant child. "No. Not until you shut up and listen."

 

"Fine." Kageyama slumps down on the bar top, falling into a sullen silence.

 

"I didn't want to say yes, even when it was clear how Yuu - Kindaichi felt." Kunimi looks down, his fingers tapping a nervous tattoo on the bartop. "I told him that it was too much work, getting into a relationship. It wasn't the truth. At least, not all of it. I was afraid it wouldn't work out. That, somehow, it'd all fall apart, and that we - we wouldn't even be friends anymore."

 

He takes a deep breath, and carries on. "But it was harder than I thought, always having to deny how I felt. And -- I was terrified when I finally confessed, but --" Kunimi meets his eyes, and smiles. "Being with Yuutarou's gone a whole lot better than I thought it would, and it was worth chancing making a fool of myself."

 

"Easy for _you_ to say," Kageyama mutters, "when it's mutual." He's genuinely happy for them - or he would be, if he wasn't so mired in self-pity.

 

"Sometimes you have to gamble a little, Kageyama-kun. That's the most sentimental advice you'll ever get from me. Also, mention this to _anyone_ , and you'll regret it."

 

"What, so you're saying I should straight-out tell Iwaizumi I'm in love with him? Because that worked out _really_ well." Kageyama drains the rest of his drink in one go, and promptly regrets it - the drink _burns_ all the way down, and he splutters.

 

"Look," Kageyama coughs, when he's recovered, "I appreciate the advice, I do. I just -- I don't think that I can do that."

 

Kunimi pats him on the shoulder consolingly, and fixes him another drink.

 

* * *

 

Avoidance, however, only goes so far - on the way back from his trip to Maruetsu, Kageyama runs into Iwaizumi waiting outside his apartment. It was bound to happen, since they live in the same apartment complex, but Kageyama's not prepared to face Iwaizumi just yet.

  
   
"Kageyama! Can you spare a moment?"   
  

 

Kageyama's first instinct is to refuse, but the last shred of his resistance crumbles when he sees how miserable Iwaizumi looks. His lips are compressed into an unhappy line, and his shoulders are slumped. Iwaizumi doesn't look as if he's had a decent night's rest in a while, and Kageyama relents, setting his grocery bags down and unlocking his front door. 

 

"Come on in," Kageyama says, even though the last thing he wants is to have this conversation. "D'you want a drink?" 

 

"No, that's fine." Iwaizumi shakes his head, but Kageyama heads to the kitchen pours them both some water anyway. If anything, it buys him time to breathe deep, and try to stop his hands from trembling. 

 

When he pads back into the living room, glasses in hand, Iwaizumi's sitting on his couch, head in his hands. 

 

"Did I - did I do something wrong?" Iwaizumi tries to smile, but it's paper-thin and forced. "I'm sorry if I upset you." 

 

"No, you didn't." Kageyama sets the drinks down on the coffee table and slumps down on the couch besides him, picking at a fraying thread on the hem of his hoodie. It's on the verge of unravelling altogether, and as he tugs at it, it does, the rest of the stitches it's been holding down coming loose too. 

 

"Then why are you avoiding me?" Iwaizumi turns to face him, frowning. "I was worried when you weren't replying any of your texts or calls, and I had to find out from Oikawa if you were doing all right, and - " he cuts himself off with a sharp exhale, biting his lip. "Look, if you don't want to hang around with me, I understand. Just -- tell me, okay? I was -- I thought things were going well, but if they aren't, then I'll just -- leave you alone, and I'm sorry." 

 

"It's not that, either," Kageyama sighs. It hurts, seeing Iwaizumi like this, confused and uncertain, and so far removed from his usual confident self. "I should - I should be the one apologising, actually." 

 

"What?" 

 

Kageyama's nails are digging into his palm. He offers Iwaizumi a shaky smile. "So it turns out, I never quite moved on from junior high, y'know? It's dumb, but even now -- I still. I like you. And I know you don't feel the same way, so I figured that leaving was the best option. It wouldn't be fair, not to both of us." 

 

Iwaizumi's staring at him, eyes wide. 

 

He braces himself for the inevitable rejection. It doesn't get any easier, the second time round, and Kageyama can feel his own smile going brittle around the edges, and he swallows around the lump in his throat. 

 

"I -" Iwaizumi's voice wavers. "I really like you too, Kageyama." 

 

Now it's Kageyama's turn to gape at him. "Uh," he manages, eloquently. _That_ , he had not been expecting, and Iwaizumi's response throws him off altogether. 

 

"I thought that you knew, from the baked goods I've been leaving and the dinners that we've had, but I guess I should've been more direct, huh?" Iwaizumi scratches the back of his neck sheepishly. 

 

"You mean.... those were _dates_?" Kageyama's still trying to wrap his head around the idea that Iwaizumi - Iwaizumi Hajime, of all people, who he's had a crush on for what feels like forever - likes him back. It feels like his brain might short-circuit any second now, actually. 

 

"Yes - no - I mean, only if you'd like them to be." Iwaizumi's sitting straighter now, and there's a spark in his eyes that hasn't been there before. 

 

"I thought - - but you rejected me. Back in Kitagawa Daiichi?" The memory's still fresh in his head.  _Sorry, Kageyama, but I can't accept your feelings,_ and then Kageyama had fled, unable and unwilling to hear another word. 

 

"Back then, I didn't have the same feelings for you. After you confessed, though --" Iwaizumi trails off, his gaze thoughtful, "I started noticing you more, but then I graduated, and well, you know the rest. Running into you in Tokyo again, though -" he blushes, "it was good to see you again, and it felt a lot like a second chance I shouldn't pass up on." 

 

Kageyama buries his face in his hands, feeling his cheeks warm against his palms. "I've been such an _idiot_."

 

"So have I," Iwaizumi laughs, and warm fingers catch hold of his hands, tugging them away from his face gently. 

 

 "Will you go out with me?" Iwaizumi murmurs, gaze intent on him. "For real, this time?" 

 

"I - " It feels a lot like he's dreaming, even when he knows he not. "Definitely. Yes." 

 

Iwaizumi leans in, resting his forehead against Kageyama's, and Kageyama wraps his arms around him, hesitantly at first, and then with more assurance. 

 

"I'm glad," Iwaizumi says, and he's grinning as widely as Kageyama is. 

 

"Me, too." Emboldened, Kageyama presses a kiss to the curve of his mouth; it's as soft as he'd imagined it would be, and then there's not much more to be said, after that.

 

* * *

**coda**

 

Oikawa takes one look at Kageyama when he walks into the office on Monday morning, and smirks. "About time, Tobio-chan," he grins, and then zeroes in on Futakuchi, who's engaged in a game of Solitaire, "Pay up, Ken-chan, and may I remind you that Solitaire is not a productive use of time during office hours?" 

 

"Geh!" Futakuchi jumps in his seat, almost upending his coffee mug. "Fine, fine," he grumbles, reaching for his wallet and pulling out a 10,000 yen note. "Happy now?" 

 

"Never bet against true love," Oikawa informs him solemnly, tucking the bill away, and Futakuchi rolls his eyes. "I wasn't _that_ far off, I just thought it'd take longer for Kageyama to get his act together - not that I'm not happy for you, but honestly, you couldn't have waited one more week?" This is to Kageyama, who is diligently ignoring both of them. 

 

"No," Kageyama grins, and Futakuchi snorts. 

 

His phone pings. It's Iwaizumi. _Lunch later?_

 

 _Yeah. See you later,_ Kageyama replies, and he's smiling when he puts his phone down. 

 

"Ugh, you're such a sap," Futakuchi informs him - he's been peering over Kageyama's shoulder this whole while - and Kageyama plants his hand in Futakuchi's face, pushing him away. 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I did not expect this fic to be as long as it did, but I had a lot of fun writing this, and I hope you enjoyed reading! <3


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